Sniff

There's a flurry, and a small young woman, with red, spiked hair and a duffle coat, dumps herself down two seats away from me, hunching her shoulders. After a second, she turns back to the seats she's come from and speaks, sharp, clear tones. "Yes," she says, "I've changed seats. It's because you smell bad." She swivels, sits erect, draws a magazine from her pocket and begins to read.